her to call upon his daughter; she did not mention to her that he had also made her a declaration of love.
"Ah, comme cela se trouve!" the elder lady exclaimed. "I myself have been thinking it would be a kindness to take a look at the child before I go into the country."
"We can go together, then," said Isabel, reasonably. I say "reasonably," because the proposal was not uttered in the spirit of enthusiasm. She had prefigured her visit as made in solitude; she should like it better so. Nevertheless, to her great consideration for Madame Merle she was prepared to sacrifice this mystic sentiment.
Her friend meditated, with her usual suggestive smile. "After all," she presently said, "why should we both go; having, each of us, so much to do during these last hours?"
"Very good; I can easily go alone."
"I don't know about your going alone to the house of a handsome bachelor. He has been married—but so long ago!"
Isabel stared. "When Mr. Osmond is away, what does it matter?"
"They don't know he is away, you see."
"They? Whom do you mean?"
"Every one. But perhaps it doesn't matter."
"If you were going, why shouldn't I?" Isabel asked.
"Because I am an old frump, and you are a beautiful young woman."
"Granting all that, you have not promised."
"How much you think of your promises!" said Madame Merle, with a smile of genial mockery.
"I think a great deal of my promises. Does that surprise you?"
